Cheat Codes
by Rayet
Summary: Audrey does some research on her current situation, trying to find answers in a millennia-old book.


Bob Hanson kept a bible in the same way he held onto his wife's lighter; little more than an ironic reminder of the things he once believed in. But just as everything else in his diner was expected to contribute in some way, the book had been put to good use. Though originally written to give support to men in times of need, it was deemed more useful as a source of support for the fourth corner of the office filing cabinet. And though it performed its duties admirably (the cabinet was as solid as a rock), it was not its true purpose. The words, filled with such power and truth, were not meant to lie hidden on the floor. But there they stayed, patiently waiting; until the day their final chapter came to pass. It was not Bob Hanson that relieved it of its duty that day, but another lost soul, searching for answers to questions they never thought they would have.

"What'll it be?" Bob asked without looking up from the fat steaks sizzling on the diner grill.

The girl he addressed, though hesitant to interact, had been drawn like a wild animal to the smell of good food.

"Can I have a beer?" Audrey asked semi-hopefully.

Bob finally did look up, staring humourlessly at the girl as he took a sip from his own beer. In answer, he handed her a plate of the freshly-cooked steak. "There's orange soda in the corner if you're thirsty."

"Thanks anyway," she sighed, tucking into her meal and stifling moan of pleasure. She hadn't eaten since her and her parents had first arrived, and most of it had been brought back up shortly after her father's abduction.

"So…" she ventured, staring down at her steak knife and trying to act casual. "My ipod's battery died about an hour ago, and while we're all just sitting here waiting to follow it, I thought… maybe you had a book or two lying around?"

Bob suddenly craved a cigarette. Flicking his lighter with well-practised ease, he took a long drag before asking, "What book did you have in mind?"

Audrey blushed, too embarrassed to ask him outright. "Forget I mentioned it," she told him, sliding off the barstool. For a moment, Bob's face softened into a knowing look that made the teenager scowl; she didn't want his pity.

"I think there's one or two lying around in the office," he told her, attention back on his steaks, "Round the filing cabinet, maybe."

It took Audrey only a moment to spot the little red book, and only a few moments more to pull it free. Unfortunately the cabinet's sudden loss of balance caused it to teeter forward in a way that made it a serious threat to Audrey's legs. She shoved it back against the wall with a bang that seemed impossibly loud against the silent backdrop of the night. Once satisfied that the cabinet was stable and nobody was coming to investigate the noise, she leaned back against the cold office wall and settled the dusty book in her a lap. A chink of moonlight illuminated the faded gold letters on the front: "HOLY BIBLE." _Okay, _she thought to herself, lifting the cover, _time to see what all the fuss is about._

The concept of reading a holy book was so foreign to the girl that she honestly didn't know where to begin. Deciding that starting at the beginning was probably the best idea, she was relieved to find a sort of contents page listing key words and where they could be found. Finding the name she was looking for, she began flicking back and forth between pages. She continued in this way, brows slowly knitting together in what may have been dissatisfaction. All too soon the page references were exhausted and she was stranded somewhere in Revelations. It was the final chapter in the book and spoke about the final judgement of man. Audrey was not surprised to find her key word there; the end of the world was the reason she had been searching for it in the first place.

She read on, trying to line up the descriptions in the book with the events she had witnessed first-hand that day.

"What are you doing?"

The unexpected question made her finger slip on the edge of the tissue-thin page, leaving a shallow cut. She felt sheepish, as though she had been caught doing something shameful. Keeping her stinging hand on the page she turned to look up at the tall man. He was standing in the doorway in that rigid, uncomfortable-looking way of his. Audrey had first thought his inability to seem relaxed was due to his being an angel from heaven; a place she had always imagined to be quite stuffy and formal. But perhaps it was something more than that; something militaristic. She squirmed beneath his unreadable gaze, feeling examined.

"What are you doing?" he repeated.

His tone wasn't accusing, merely curious. Audrey swallowed hard, wishing she were standing but knowing Michael would still tower over her if she were.

"Uh, nothing really. Just reading."

"Reading the bible?"

"Yeah…" she suddenly felt the need to defend her actions. "It's not like I've ever done it before, you know? I just figured, while I still had the chance…" she trailed off sardonically.

The angel seemed uncertain how to proceed. He took a hesitant step closer, and after checking her reaction, took several more. He seemed to realise that at such a close proximity he was too tall to remain standing. If Audrey had been anywhere else with anyone else it might have been amusing; the simple movement was more like an event as his giant figure slowly collapsed into an awkward sitting position. He looked so out of place on the floor that Audrey couldn't help a small smile.

"It's not a bad thing, you know," he told her, gesturing to the book in her lap.

The girl paused. "I wasn't sure if it was… appropriate."

"It's strange that you should say that now. You humans seem to find it most appropriate in times like this." He smiled, but it was thin and guarded. Audrey still wasn't sure what the angel thought about her choice in reading material.

"Is it," she began awkwardly, "like, accurate? Or did everyone screw it up along the way?"

Michael breathed out slowly, glancing upward as though asking for the right way to respond. "What a difficult question," he finally began. "Some parts are as they were originally, but some were changed or omitted outright, and some were simply… misinterpreted."

"Like the bit about the end of the world happening in a diner?"

The angel smiled. "Like that bit, yes."

"There's something else I wanted to know about," Audrey began, suddenly very aware that the person she was talking to was not human. "It said something about what happened in heaven. About you." She reopened the book, ignoring the crackling of the old cover. Where she had been using her cut finger to keep the page was now stained with a little red-brown drop of blood. "Damn," she muttered distractedly, futilely scrubbing at the mark. She blushed, realising her poor word choice in light of present company. "Sorry," she amended.

"You had a question?" Michael prompted patiently.

"Right. So, uh, this bit about… _'Then war broke out in heaven. Michael and his angels fought against the dragon, who fought back with his angels; but the dragon was defeated, and he and his angels were not allowed to stay in heaven any longer.'_ Blah, blah blah, something about the dragon being the devil, then: _'And so be glad, you heavens, and all you who live there! But how terrible for the earth and the sea! For the devil has come down to you, and he is filled with rage, because he knows he has only a little time left.' _That didn't actually happen like that, did it?"

Michael leaned back, staring pensively at the opposite wall. "No," he finally said, "It didn't happen quite like that."

"Because it's not the devil's angels that ended up on earth, it's God's." Audrey said, failing to mask the accusation in her tone. Michael didn't reply, but she didn't need him to.

After the silence grew too long to bear, she whispered, "Does He hate us?"

The angel turned to her, surprised. "Of course not."

"I don't believe you."

Michael sighed, a deep noise that spoke of millennia of suffering. "In the beginning, God made men. He gave them gifts that separated them from His angels. He gave them free will and a world of their own. They were His favoured children." There was no bitterness in his voice, merely statement of fact.

"You don't have free will?" Audrey frowned.

"Well, we do; otherwise I wouldn't be here now, and Lucifer wouldn't have been exiled from heaven. But we were made to serve. It is difficult to stray from our orders."

"Especially for someone like you: a soldier," Audrey voiced the unspoken thought.

The angel nodded. "I was more than just a soldier. I was the leader, the commander of His armies. The most devoted of all."

The corner of his mouth twitched with remorse. "But even though He thinks I disobeyed him by coming to protect the child instead of destroying it, I am actually upholding a far older promise."

Audrey leaned forward, captivated by the angel's story. "What promise?" she asked.

"To protect that which He holds most dear. Even from Himself."

"Us?"

"I was the first of all the angels to bow before your kind. I loved you as God did; and I continue to believe in your capacity for good." He ran his hand through his short hair, looking suddenly frustrated. "If I can just keep you all alive long enough, I'm sure He'll see it too."

Audrey hesitated for a second, before placing her hand on his shoulder. The angel tensed for a moment, unused to such compassion, but did not pull away.

"I never really believed in angels," the girl admitted, smiling to her herself. Michael raised an eyebrow, wondering why she was telling him.

"Seems strange _now_, when the whole world's covered in them. I'm sort of starting to take you guys for granted." Her smiled faded a little. "But you're not quite what I expected."

Michael huffed. "You were expecting a more… 'Renaissance' appearance?"

"It's not like that; I wasn't expecting you to have wings and halos and stuff. I just thought you'd be… I dunno, nicer or something." She grimaced at how potentially-insulting that may have sounded. Was it possible to be racist against angels?

"We do have wings."

"What?"

"Angels. We _do _have wings."

"But- no you don't," Audrey said, baffled.

"I cut mine off."

"You what?" she squeaked, horrified at how calmly he had said it.

Michael reached back to touch a spot near his shoulder blade, and Audrey sucked in a breath. Even in the dim light she could see the lump beneath his bloodstained shirt.

"Oh my god," she breathed, not caring if it was blasphemous. "Did it hurt?"

Michael smiled wryly. "What's the phrase you humans like to use? 'Like hell.'"

"Then why do it?_"_

"I had to do it if I wanted to move freely through your world," Michael explained, dropping his hand back to his side. "Not only are an angel's wings rather noticeable, they keep us bound to heaven. Without them I am vulnerable, but unburdened."

Audrey wasn't sure what she was supposed to say to that. She had recovered the bible to find out more about their enigmatic defender, and had been dissatisfied with what she had found. But now that he was sitting here on the floor answering her questions, she felt overwhelmed by him. What did you say to cheer up a fallen angel in the middle of the apocalypse?

"Suddenly I wish I were braver."

Michael made an enquiring noise and Audrey struggled to explain.

"I just mean, if I weren't so scared of what was going to happen to _me, _I might be able to think of the right thing to say for _you," _she explained, embarrassed. It was against her nature to seem weak (or worse, compassionate) in front of strangers. But she figured the end of the world counted as extraordinary enough circumstances to warrant it. After all, who was left for Michael to tell?

Michael scratched the top of his head again, considering her words. "I think any fear on your part would be more than understandable at this point. And I don't expect you to try and fix my problems when I won't do the same for you."

Audrey noted his use of the word 'won't' instead of 'can't'. It was an echo of the speech he had given before, about his purpose on earth and the relative unimportance of everyone but Charlie and her baby. It had been hard for Audrey to accept the very probable likelihood of not surviving the night, especially when she had been so convinced the angel had been there to protect them all. But she refused to let Michael see her disappointment any more than he already had.

"Don't worry, I get it," she shrugged carefully. "You've got a job to do, and you can't be worrying about us lesser mortals at the same time. It's fine."

Michael frowned slightly. "It's not that I don't care about the rest of you," he defended, "but without the child, there would be no way to protect humanity at all. That baby is the best and only hope you have."

"Yes, we know you're only here for the baby," Audrey replied, "you made that quite clear, thanks. And we're all doing our part to protect it too."

"Then why are you so angry?"

"I'm not angry!" the girl snapped, "I'm just _human_. I'm in the middle of nowhere surrounded by a bunch of zombies with slim to no chance of surviving the night; this is actually quite calm for somebody in that situation!" She wiped her wet cheeks on her sleeve, no longer caring if the angel saw her cry. "You might look human without your wings, but you have a _lot_ to learn about us."

Silence reigned for a moment, as Audrey cried and Michael sat there, unable to provide comfort. He had watched millennia of mortal people suffer countless tragedies, and foolishly thought seeing was akin to feeling. But in the last few hours, he had been so deeply immersed in the personal tragedies of the humans around him that the simple plan to protect the unborn baby from hordes of enemy angels seemed almost laughable now. There were just too many variables when it came to people. He wasn't sure if that would be a good thing or not.

"I know I do," he murmured quietly, before getting up to leave the girl with her pain. It was a foolish idea to have sat down with her at all. She was too young and soft; her life would be snuffed out far too easily in the ensuing battle, and getting to know her would only complicate that fact. Better that he kept his objectivity and left sentiment for the humans.

As the door gently clicked shut, Audrey hugged the red leather book to her chest. She wasn't sure she believed in all of it, or that she liked the parts she did believe in, but maybe if she crammed all her fear and pain between its pages she would be brave enough to face her future. Her mother had no support to give her daughter, and so Audrey would have to be the adult for once. She might be the youngest person stuck in that diner, but she refused to be the weakest. Her time was coming; she could feel death waiting just outside the boarded-up windows, and nobody would be there to save her.

Least of all an angel.


End file.
